


Hold On Me

by BlameThePlotBunnies



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, F/M, Family, Flashbacks, M/M, Teenlock, but idk wtf it is so..., it's not really a 'relationship', sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 23:33:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1797394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlameThePlotBunnies/pseuds/BlameThePlotBunnies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She might have let him walk to the edge a few times, but she'd never let him jump. For that he would be eternally grateful." </p>
<p>Sherlock re-meets and old 'girlfriend'. It's not quite what it first seems to be (or what i planned but hell that's life) </p>
<p>WARNING: Rape/Non-Con. </p>
<p>Also, startling lack of John so far...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Carly

**Author's Note:**

> The title is of the song Hold On Me by Phixx which absolutely and totally sums up the relationship between Sherlock and Carly (oc) and is a must to listen to to get the whole feel of this story :)

"Oh my God… Lock?"

Sherlock Holmes froze in his tracks. There was only one person who was actually allowed to call him Lock. He turned very slowly to face the owner of the voice. Carly was a girl - now a young woman, he mentally corrected as he took in her skinny jeans; leather boots; low cut, fashionably long vest top; and leather jacket - and one that he'd never thought he'd see again. Meeting her here, at a crime scene of all places… well, he didn't believe in fate, and he didn't follow a faith, but that was not to say that he didn't secretly hope that there was someone calling the shots, because otherwise there was just him, and that thought scared him more than he could comprehend.

"It  _is_ you! What are you  _doing_  here?!" Carly exclaimed, dragging him out of his thoughts; ignoring his dumbstruck expression and leaning into hug him. The hug shocked him back into life, and he hurriedly embraced her, letting her go very quickly.

"Carly! It's been a long time…" He tailed off awkwardly. All those fancy words he knew, and he couldn't find even one to say when faced with her, with the memories of the things they done, of all those long summer nights, so long ago. The silence between them stretched on. He was almost relieved when he heard Lestrade calling his name "Er, I'm on a case. I've got to…" He tailed off again, gesturing over his shoulder at the crime scene.

"Oh, yeah, sure. Duty calls." She reached out and shook his hand, leaving her card in his leather gloved palm when she pulled away. She glanced back over her shoulder to smile at him, as beautiful and blinding as he remembered, "See you round Lock."

"Yeah…" He breathed, watching her go, almost mesmerised. His gazed drifted slowly to the card in his hand. He stared at it. Carly Hallwood. Black ink. Fancy letters. Heavy, expensive card. Tasteful. So Carly. He almost jumped out of his skin when Lestrade yelled for him again. Hurrying in the Inspector's direction, Sherlock passed a bin. He knew that was where he should put that card. Carly was his past, and that was a time better forgotten, but somehow, he just couldn't. Carly had been… special. She'd known him at his worst, and she'd still stayed. She might have let him walk to the edge a few times, but she'd never let him jump. For that he would be eternally grateful. He shoved the card deep into his coat pocket and ducked under the blue and white police tape to join his favourite impatient police officer.


	2. Precautions

Mycroft Holmes had been reviewing the security tapes documenting his little brother's escapades around the city that day, as was his bedtime habit of late, (it was better than snaffling a slice or two of cake from the kitchen that he'd feel bad about later). Usually it provided him with a few opportunities to wince, mentally face-palm and generally wind down from his day - or, more frequently days - spent around people who's every word was carefully weighed and measured before it was used. He would never admit it, but it was alarmingly refreshing to see someone being so bluntly and unapologetically rude to people. Today however, rudeness was not the thing with which he was pre-occupied. It was Her. What the hell was She doing back? He'd sworn he'd never let Her get close to his emotionally stunted little brother again. Especially not now, when he'd got everything panning out so nicely with his new 'flat-mate'. With a sigh, he lifted the receiver of the nearby telephone.

"Anthea, put surveillance on Miss Carly Hallwood. I want to know everything she does, everyone she she sees and everywhere she goes, with immediate effect should it involve my brother." He replaced the receiver with exaggerated care and returned his now troubled gaze to the freeze-framed image on the screen of his laptop. Sherlock and Carly locked in an awkward embrace. It had already begun, if he wasn't much mistaken. The game, as the youngest Holmes was so fond of saying, was on.

"Myc? Are you coming to bed?" Gregory Lestrade was standing in his office doorway, wearing nothing but a towel. Who'd have thought he'd end up with that in his life? Who'd have predicted that perfection wanting him?

He smiled softly, masking the most part of his worries "Of course, Gregory, I was just tying up some loose ends."

"All pretty bows now yeah?"

"For the moment at least."

"Well, let's live in the moment then…" Greg replied, licking his lips and letting the towel drop as he turned and strolled, oh so nonchalantly, towards Mycroft's bedroom.

Well, he thought, as he got to his feet, closing his laptop with one hand and raising the other to the ceiling in a stretch, there wasn’t really an awful lot he could do but wait. If she got in contact a second time, he'd abduct her and give her the third degree.

Little was he to know that by the time she got in contact with Sherlock again it would be too late for that. 


	3. Inevitable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Implied Rape/Non-con - giving in is not, after all, the same as giving consent.

Sherlock never answered the door to non-case related callers, not even when John was out. He usually left it to Mrs. Hudson, or hoped that whoever it was would just go away. So what on earth possessed him, he'd never know, but when the doorbell rang, he trailed down the stairs to open in.

"Carly!" He said in surprise. He certainly didn't remember giving her his address, but, he reasoned, she could easily have got it off the website. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I believe the term most appropriate these days is 'booty call', Lock." Carly replied, raising one neatly manicured eyebrow, a tiny smile quirking her lips.

Sherlock breathed deeply in through his nose and out through his mouth before replying. In the few days since he'd seen her last, he'd made himself a promise. If she wanted to be back in his life, to keep in touch and be friends then that was fine. Whatever happened, they were not going to go back to having sex. Because that had gone  _so_  well for them the first time.

"Carly…" He began, planning to tell her just that. Honest to God, that was what he intended to tell her.

"Please Lock, I've missed you. No one does it like you…" She stepped inside the door and gave him a sweet little pout. That hadn't changed.

"Carly, I…" He began again, but was distracted by her tongue darting out to moisten her lips.

"Yes?" She asked, in that soft little-girly voice that had always made him do exactly what she wanted. God damnit, he could  _see_  what she was doing and he was still falling for it, he could physically feel himself weakening to her will. It was always the same, he thought. He could never say no to Carly.

"I suppose you'd better come up." He said, with a little resigned sigh.

"Oh Lock…" She breathed a gentle sigh as she kicked the door closed daintily, then she grabbed the lapels of his jacket, shoved him against the wall of the dim front hallway and proceeded to seize his lips in a searing, bruising kiss "you do know how to make a girl feel welcome." She smirked, pulling back a little. Sherlock avoided her gaze and she laughed, a beautiful wild sound. It made Sherlock feel sick. She was still laughing when she took him by the hand and forcefully steered him up the stairs into his flat. The front door clicking shut behind him may as well have been the swish of the executioners axe.


	4. After

Mycroft arrived at 221b Baker Street a little out of breath, which was a lot out of character for the ice man politician who would never run when it would appear more becoming to walk, but this was Sherlock, this was his baby brother, and that woman, and perhaps it was to be expected that he might make an exception.

He only wished he'd made it sooner.

* * *

 

Carly was just leaving as he arrived, "Mycroft! You're looking delightfully over-privileged this morning." She greeted him, giving him a smile that was more of a sneer as she almost sashayed past him out of the door. He was too late then. She'd have been stalking and ignoring him if she hadn't gotten what she wanted. He slammed the door behind her, hard, in response. He didn't have time for a battle of words, he had to get to Sherlock.

* * *

Mycroft found him sitting on the sofa with his back to the door, wrapped again in a sheet, though this time it pooled around his waist, leaving his torso bare. The older man tried not to see the deep scratches down his chest and across his back. He knew what they were. He didn't need to see them.

"Sherlock?"

No answer.

"Sherlock, what happened?"

This time Sherlock snorted in pure disgust "What do you think happened, brother dear?" He replied, his tone laced with bitterness and something else. Self loathing. A spot of guilt. "What always happens when Carly wants sex?"

"Sherlock-" Mycroft began, but his younger sibling cut him off

"Oh do shut up Mycroft. There's nothing you could have done to prevent it. There's nothing anyone could have done. Except, perhaps, if I hadn't bothered answering the door. That I could have done."

"You're doing it again aren't you?" Mycroft accused, re-opening a long closed argument. "She comes to you and manipulates you and uses and abuses and takes just exactly what she wants with no regard for you or your feelings, and you sit here and you  _blame_  yourself! Sherlock, this is not your fault." Sherlock opened his mouth to retort but Mycroft held up a hand to silence him and continued: "There is something I  _could_  have done, and that is something I am  _going_  to do, and you  _are_  going to agree to it."

Sherlock turned his head to stare at him.

"The cameras are going back. If she comes back here to you again, then we are going to have the evidence to take her down." He explained, firmly, before his expression softened a little and he implored softly "It went on long enough the first time, Sherlock. Do you really think you'd get through it again?"

Sherlock stared back at him, as though really seeing him for the first time since they were in their teens. "Okay." He said, soft but certain "Put them back. You're right, I can't do it again."

"Can't do what again?" John asked, brightly, as he appeared in the doorway of the flat. He took in Sherlock's appearance; saw the frown on Mycroft's face. His entire demeanor changed as he repeated "Can't do what again, Sherlock?"

Sherlock gazed at him for a moment and then slowly began to explain.


	5. Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where it gets all complicated and there's flashbacks and teen!lock :) also, John is succinct. It also gets rather *ahem* warm. You have been warned ;)

_*Holmes Manor, February 7 th 1997*_

_She was here again. Mycroft did his best to ignore her, draped across his little brother on the sofa. She smirked at him and whispered something in Sherlock's ear. He sniggered. Poison, Mycroft thought as he crossed to the bookcase, studiously ignoring them both. That was what she was, poison in a bottle marked wine._

_*Sherlock's Bedroom, February 7 th 1997, Midnight*_

_Carly was his drug, Sherlock thought, during one of his rare properly lucid moments. He truly believed that he did not need the heroin or the cocaine while he was with her. Of course, it helped that she brought him both. It dulled out the things he didn't want to remember._

_She loved him. He knew she did, she told him so. So why did he want to forget the chunks of time he spent in her company the very second she was gone? No. It wasn't when he was in her company was it. He deliberately searched for what he'd hidden from himself with the aid of the drugs._

_*The Stables, February 7 th 1997, 6.54pm*_

_They were laying in the hay, cuddling. It was nice. Sherlock was sleepy. The drugs always made him sleepy. Carly pressed a kiss to his chest. He smiled._

_"S'nice baby…" He slurred_

_She repeated the action, further up his chest._

_Sherlock sighed contentedly._

_Another kiss for him, open-mouthed, over his nipple._

_"Mmm…"_

_More kisses, light and feathery, up over his shoulder, up his neck. Hands on his hips. A nip to his earlobe. She was warm against him. He felt dazed. Something was wriggling in the corner of his mind. Something just out of reach. He felt her undoing his trousers and the something in his mind gave another squirm. He knew where this was going. No. No, actually he didn't fancy it that much. He tried to tell her as much, he really did, but the drugs that made him slur seemed now to have full control of his voice._

_"Nngh…" was all the rebuff he could manage._

_"I know, Lock, I want you too." No, his mind reiterated. No. But her voice was breathy and her hands were everywhere and he was hard and he seemed to be going with it anyway._

_*Carly's Bedroom, February 5 th 1997, 2.08pm*_

_The kiss was sudden and heated, he hadn't expected it, stumbling a little, off balance. That was the drugs as well, buggering his balance. The backs of his knees hit the bed and he tumbled backwards, she followed, kneeling above him and resuming the kiss._

_When he next opened his eyes, a few intense moments later, he realised that at some point during their make out session, she had removed her blouse and was now perched above upright above him faffing with her hair. He gazed at her, feeling heat course through him. "Carly…" His voice was rough, his hand moving to cup her breast. She smiled down at him, rolling her hips a little against the interest in his jeans. He moved his hands to her waist, insinuating fingers between the waistband and her skin and stroking gently. She wriggled delightfully. He moved his hands to the fastening of her jeans. She brushed him away, clambering to her feet and opening the wardrobe._

_"Not now Lock, I have a party to dress for."_

_*School Disco, December 20 th 1996, 9pm*_

_They were sitting this one out, Carly was tired of dancing and he was high so he didn't really care. His back was against the wall, she was leaning back against him and they were swaying a little to the music. It was dark. Most people were on the dance floor. Carly spun in his arms, leaning against his chest and smiling up at him._

_"You ready to dance again?" He asked. He wasn’t that high. He didn’t want to get thrown out. It was just a little background buzz, not enough to make him slur or wobble._

_"Yeah." Her smile widened. He made to move off, but she was leaning closer, pressing him back against the wall "I had a different kind of dance in mind." Her hand crept between them and squeezed his crotch teasingly._

_"Carly!" He hissed, feeling himself twitch at the attention._

_"What?" She seemed preoccupied and he felt his fly being lowered, her hand slipping inside and goddamnit why hadn't he worn pants?!_

_"'s too public…" He murmured, attempting to remove her hand. She batted him away far too easily_

_"No one will notice." She insisted, hitching her skirt up a little and wrapping her body around him, holding on to his shoulders, leaning heavily on his chest and lifting her legs to wrap around him so that he was forced to bring his hands to her thighs and take her weight if he wanted to breathe._

_"Carl-eee!!" He tried one last time, ending in a gasp as she pulled him inside. He leant against the wall, gripping her thighs and closing his eyes as he let her take what she wanted._

_*Sherlock's Bedroom, 1.06pm*_

_Oh._

_If he wasn't much mistaken, that was not a healthy sex life. He reached for the little bag always hidden in his pyjama pocket._

_Thank god for the drugs._

_*The Stables, One Month Later*_

_It hurt. Sherlock curled deeper into the hay, clutching at his stomach. He was cold and it hurt. He hadn’t realised how dependant he had become. Everything hurt so much.  He screwed his eyes shut against the tears and shivered, unable to control it. She must have known, must have realised that he would get like this while she was away. She hadn't left him enough and she knew it. She was off sunning herself in France, and he was here, curled in the dark, praying to a god he didn't believe in that it would stop, that he would just die and it would stop._

_And that was when the stall door opened and someone crept in beside him, arms went around him and for a moment he tensed, sure somehow she was home, but no, after a few seconds he began to realise the differences between her body, little and curvy, and the body against him, muscle and strength. Decidedly masculine. He forced himself to turn over and found himself face to face with his brother. Great. Just what he needed right now. An argument with the one person on earth who might actually win._

_But Mycroft simply gazed at him for a moment, something in his eyes Sherlock had never seen before._

_"Oh Sherlock." He breathed "Brother mine, what has she done to you?" He pulled him closer, holding him tightly._

_Sherlock pressed his palm against Mycroft's upper arm and clung on, his cheek against his brother's shoulder. Safe._

_"Hurts." He murmured, cringing a little as the pain rose to the centre of his consciousness again._

_"I know, little brother. I know." He cradled the back of the younger boy's head in his hand "Be brave."_

_"I'm trying."_

_They lay there for another four hours, then Mycroft smuggled his unconscious brother up the back stairs and stayed with him all night._

 

*Present Day*

John stared at him for the longest time after that.

"Bloody hell." He said, eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do drop me a review. I've never done this before and I'm curious how it's coming across...


End file.
